


Exes and Oh's

by hiyas



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyas/pseuds/hiyas
Summary: Prompt fill for the Reunited AU scenario, "we’re texting for the first time in forever and I told you about some stupid thing I did and sent a sarcastic ‘you must really miss me, huh’ and you just replied ‘yes’ and I think my heart just broke.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearaBribage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearaBribage/gifts).



It was inevitable that they would run into each other after college. They currently lived in the same city, ran in the same circles, heck, they even hung out in the same bar, after all. It was just, you know, awkward.

Or maybe it was just Eponine who felt like that.

She observed Enjolras, recently back from his stint working abroad, as he talked to Feuilly and Combeferre on the other end of their table. He was sharing some anecdote about a famous judge in The Hague, gesticulating wildly and making his friends laugh. He looked well: his riotous curls cropped into a sensible haircut, blue eyes bright with good cheer, sensuous lips pulled into a heart-stopping smile. Oh, why did Courfeyrac call the rest of the Amis to join their post-work drinking party?

Grantaire, who was sitting beside her, spied who was directly in her line of sight and nudged her. “Wanna say hi?”

“Oh, fuck you, R.”

“Ask ‘Ferre first if he’s okay with that. Also, I’m sure it’s someone else that you'd like to--”

Eponine cut him off, “Not funny.”

“Geez, so touchy!” he raised his hands in surrender. He nudged her shoulder again. “You alright?”

“Fine, never better,” she replied. To deter him from asking again, she downed her mojito and stalked to the bar for a refill.

 

 

* * *

 

She spent the next day hungover, which was fine, considering her boss was Courfeyrac and he also looked like death. She pulled out the pain killers stashed in her pedestal cabinet and offered it to him.

“Remind me that drinking on a weekday is a bad idea,” he said before he swallowed the tablets.

“Drinking on a weekday is a bad idea,” she parroted faithfully as she stared at the article she’d been trying to write despite her headache.

“Smartass,” he groaned and took a long sip of water. “But seriously, I think we’re getting too old for drinking on weekdays.”

Eponine shrugged and said, “Then stop yelling ‘Tequila Tuesdays at The Corinthe’ or whatever promo they’re having once a week.”

“But it’s good for company morale for everyone to bond once in awhile outside of work!”

“We’ve been friends since university, dummy. We’re pretty much bonded for life already,” Grantaire retorted as he was fiddling with something on their company website. He looked the same as ever, only the wilder dishevelment of his hair indicated the carousing he had done the night before. “Although I know someone Eppie wants to bond with,” he teased.

“Ooh, interesting!” Courfeyrac perked up. “Is it Enjolras?”

The woman being questioned looked like she wanted to disappear under her table, as Grantaire laughed out loud. “Shut up, R!”

The other man rolled his chair nearer to Eponine, and asked very sincerely, “So, Enjolras? You guys were sweet together. I never asked you before, but what exactly happened between you two?”

She pointedly ignored his pleading eyes, the same look that got her to quit her first job at a PR firm to work for his social enterprise. “No comment. And back to work, you two. You’re lucky ‘Chetta’s not here to yell at us for wasting daylight when we have a big product launch coming up.”

That got the two to stop pestering her.

 

* * *

 

 

Eponine stomped her heel on the tiled floor and groaned when she saw the locked office door. Oh, why did she decide to leave her laptop with all her important files at work last night? Rushing to the office was not the way she wanted to spend her Saturday, but much to her annoyance, she had no choice. She pulled out her phone from her coat and called Courfeyrac.

“Hey, Ep! What’s up?” his jovial voice boomed in greeting.

“You know that nice article I was slaving over the past week to send to our media friends? Apparently, I forgot to attach the press release on my email last night and now the magazine needs it pronto or else they’ll run something else instead of our new bag collection and the scholarship beneficiaries from the profits,” she sheepishly explained.

“Oh crap, that sucks. Well, can’t you send it now?”

“Yes, if I could just get inside our office. Which is locked. Good thing the building guard recognized me or else I wouldn’t even be allowed inside the building.”

“I have a spare key to the door, but it’s at home and I’m on a literal boat with my parents right now.”

“Shit.”

“Wait! Enjolras is crashing at my place until he finds his own flat. Call him up, make him bring it to you?”

“En-Enjolras?”

His voice became a tad quieter, “It’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not! Uh, I don’t have his number though.”

“I’ll send it to you. Okay, my mom’s glaring daggers at me for being rudely on the phone when there are guests. Update me, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Eponine replied and hung up. Almost immediately, she received a new contact file from Courfeyrac. She steeled herself and dialed Enjolras’ number.

Two seconds later, he answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, um, it’s Eponine,” she began, “So I did a stupid thing and long story short, can you please go to our office with Courfeyrac’s spare keys?”

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Enjolras found Eponine sitting on the hallway floor, playing some puzzle game on her phone. “Hi.”

“Hey, sorry about all this,” she said as she inelegantly scrambled up and dusted the back of her jeans.

“It’s alright. Here,” he replied, handing her the keys.

“Thanks. I’m sure this was not how you thought you’d spend your weekend, huh? I’m sure you missed rescuing me from my own stupidity.”

“You’re not stupid,” he protested.

“Okay, forgetful then,” she shrugged as she swung the door wide open to let him in.

He followed her to her desk, where she quickly booted up her laptop and quickly fired emails with their appropriate attachments. As she typed, she could spy Enjolras staring at the photos on the low divider separating her desk from Courfeyrac’s. They were mostly pictures of her with her siblings or with their friends during various parties and vacations. He seemed to linger at one particular photo. She guessed he finally noticed the one from their university days. She shook her head and concentrated on her task.

Within a few more minutes, Eponine had sent her emails and double-checked that all of them had the missing files attached. She quickly packed up her laptop into her bag and thanked him again for coming.

“It was no big deal, Eponine,” he reiterated as they walked out of the empty office.

“Well, I don’t want to take up more of your time. I’m sure you have a lot to do,” she said as she locked up.

Enjolras shrugged. “I was catching up on TV shows when you called, you weren’t interrupting anything important.”

“TV shows? You?” she joked as she handed back the keys to him.

“Hey, I do watch them!” he protested as they headed towards the elevator banks.

“Okay, if you say so,” she said, tone hinting that she did not believe him at all.

Enjolras merely smiled at the teasing as they entered the empty elevator. After a while, he spoke again, “And I did, you know.”

“Did what?”

“I did miss you. Not just ‘rescuing you,’ as you said, especially when you were there for me whenever I needed someone too. I missed talking to you. I missed you.”

She froze at the declaration, heart breaking all over again at the sincerity pouring from every word. She wanted to believe him, she really did. She couldn’t meet his eyes, but she couldn’t help the hurt to spill over her next words. “You said you’d keep in touch, you know. That we’d still be friends.”

Enjolras reached out to hold her hand but stopped himself when he saw her shrink to herself. “I know, I’m sorry,” he said, sighing forlornly. “And I meant to, I swear. I tried to, thousand times, but I just couldn’t find the words. And when you never called or messaged me either, I figured you didn’t want to hear from me.”

“Would you have been able to call the man who broke your heart?” Eponine wondered out loud, still turned away from him.

“I-”

“Forget it,” she shook her head. She silently pleaded for the elevator to hurry down the ground floor so she could leave this conversation forever.

The elevator gods must have heard her plea because the door pinged open a moment later.

Eponine rushed out first, speed walking towards the building door. Enjolras followed, matching her stride, brows drawn together, and struggling for the right words to stop her. “Ep-”

“Thanks again for bringing the keys. I have to go now. Bye!” she cut him off, trying for a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

She left him by the building's front steps, confused as to why his heart was hurting while he watched her walk away.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel Enjolras, alone in Courfeyrac’s flat, threw the liquor cabinet doors wide open and scrutinized the labels. Absinthe, 100 proof. No. Rum, 140 proof. Oh, good. He reached for the dusty Stroh bottle Courfeyrac had bought on a lark during a trip to Austria. 160 proof. He unscrewed the cap and took a sniff.

And was violently thrown back to that summer night they all tried it. He grimaced at the Stroh and switched it for Courfeyrac’s favorite bottle of whiskey.

* * *

“Honey, I’m hooooome,” sang Courfeyrac as he made his way through the foyer to his living room. “Gosh, why is it so dark in here? Don't tell me you’re already asleep, Enj-oh, dear.”

The other man blearily looked up from his spot on the living room floor. “Heeey, Courfy. Your rug is so soft, didya know that?”

“Is that why you decided to stay on the floor?”

“Noooo. I was… I slipped from your nice couch and thought, hey, this is what I deserve.”

“You deserve to get drunk,” he paused to inspect the empty bottle beside Enjolras, “on my Talisker no less?”

“It was nice. No wonder you like it a lot,” he paused and appeared to be thinking deeply. “I wonder why she liked me?”

“Who does, love?”

“Éponine,” he replied in a somber tone as if it was a great tragedy. “She shouldn't. I make her sad.”

“She said that you make her sad?”

“I broke her heart, she said. I break hearts, Courf. I make her sad and I never called. I didn't... I didn't mean to, Courfeyrac. You gotta believe me. I thought she wouldn't care. She never said... I never said... Can you break someone's heart when you're just trying to protect them from you? I should have known it was a bad idea. But she and I... I'm terrible at loving someone," he trailed off his rant with a sigh. "Sorry, this is terrible of me, abusing your hospitality like that. I should go.”

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down, buddy,” Courfeyrac guided his friend back to the couch as Enjolras tried to leave. “You are not going anywhere in that condition. Come on, sit down and I'll get you some water, okay?”

By the time he came back with a glass of water, the drunk man was asleep.

* * *

“...him like this?”

“...time in college?”

“...Éponine… anything?”

“No, nothing. Well...”

"...knew?"

Enjolras could barely open his eyes but recognized the voices talking. So, Courfeyrac decided to call Combeferre. Merde.

“Awake now?”

“Blergh, no thanks to you two talking so loudly.”

“That’s the hangover talking. Here, easy now,” Combeferre said as he helped his best friend upright on the couch. He handed him a glass of water and some pain reliever.

“Feeling better?”

Enjolras answered with a glare as he cradled his head. How long before aspirin worked on hangovers again?

“I was ready to call an ambulance, to be honest. But Courfeyrac insists that you didn’t drink an entire whiskey bottle,” he continued.

“Good thing that bottle was halfway done, or we’d be having a different conversation,” the other man said. “Think you can eat crackers?”

The blond man wrinkled his nose but took one of the proffered wafers. “Thanks, Mum.”

Courfeyrac clucked good-naturedly at the teasing. “Wanna talk about it, kiddo?”

Enjolras peered at the two concerned faces solemnly staring back at him. “Not really, but you two are going to pester me about this, aren’t you?” he said, resigned to the fact.

“Only because this is the first time we’ve seen you resort to alcohol. That’s not you,” Combeferre replied.

“Oh, right, that’s Grantaire’s job,” he muttered.

The other man gave him a stern look. Courfeyrac looked even more worried.

“Ugh, below the belt, I know. God, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole for bringing that up,” the blond mumbled, burying his face on the couch’s armrest. This was why he didn’t drink. He had no filter, and all the terrible things he’d ever thought came spewing out.

“I ought to smack you for that, but I’m sure you’re flagellating yourself worse than I ever could. But you bring up an excellent point. Grantaire used to do this, a lot. We’re still helping him with his problem. We’d like to help you nip this in the bud so this doesn’t become a habit,” Combeferre quietly said.

Enjolras nodded, feeling guilty and knowing full well he was right.

“So, care to tell us what happened with Eponine that inspired you to get piss-drunk?” asked Courfeyrac.

* * *

Slowly, Enjolras told them. That summer before their last year in university. How he and Eponine had steadily become closer. How one day, while they were laughing about some silly thing, they had trailed off, and the next thing he knew he was reaching for her and they ended up making out. (“Just making out?” “Shut up, Courf!”) on her threadbare couch. Nothing changed on the outside, he told them. They were still friends first, he insisted. They still bickered about petty things. They still laughed at each other’s antics. They still commiserated about life in general. They were just… having a bit more fun with each other.

“That’s when I fucked up,” he said.

“When you two became, ah, intimate?” Courfeyrac delicately inquired.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Enjolras hesitated, trying to explain but felt too much to string words into coherence. “I thought then that it was nothing. No. Not- not nothing. I didn’t think her feelings were... engaged. I thought it was a casual thing for her.”

“But it wasn’t for you?”

Enjolras could only nod. “When I realized it, when she was starting to mean more to me, I ran away like a coward. When Winter Break came, I told her that it was better if we just remained friends.”

“And she agreed?” Combeferre hazarded a guess.

“Yes,” he sighed despondently. “The next time we met, it was like the past months meant nothing to her. At least, that’s how it looked to me. So I followed her lead. I didn’t seek her out. Made sure we weren’t alone. When we graduated, I took the first job that would get me out of Paris.”

“Ah,” Courfeyrac said, exchanging looks with Combeferre. He gently prodded Enjolras to continue, “But you were fine, until yesterday at least. What changed?”

“I just- I just missed her so much, you know? I missed how close our friendship was. And I messed it up. It was my fault we drifted apart,” he rambled, before getting back on track. “I don’t think I was prepared to see her again when I came to your office. I mean, yes, we saw each other the other night at the Corinth, but it’s not like we talked then. But there, at your office, we were entirely alone and we could barely make small talk. She was so hesitant like she didn’t know how to talk to me anymore. And maybe that’s true. And when I tried to tell her how much I missed her, I just didn’t expect her to look so… hurt. She looked so hurt when I said I missed her. I tried to explain, but it was useless. I couldn’t… No words felt enough to explain. She said I broke her heart.”

“And then?”

Enjolras paused as if to recall the scenes from the previous afternoon. The heavy silence between them after her whispered disclosure. All the things that he had wanted to say, but could not shape into words. “She told me to forget it. Like I could. Then she practically ran away from me.”

“And then you came home and decided to drown your sorrows?” continued Courfeyrac.

“I know it was stupid. I just… I couldn't get her sad smile out of my head.”

Combeferre let out a disappointed sigh while Courfeyrac patted his arm in consolation.

“Love turned out to be more difficult than expected, eh?”

“Yes-wait, who said anything about love?”

“You just did,” the two answered.


End file.
